


Merrily Turns the Wheel

by cirque



Category: The Wife of Usher's Well (Traditional Ballad)
Genre: Gen, Ghosts, Mild Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:34:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24043702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cirque/pseuds/cirque
Summary: For sure as cows gave milk, those boys were dead and buried.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 10
Collections: Once Upon a Fic 2020





	Merrily Turns the Wheel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [regshoe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/regshoe/gifts).



> You can read several versions of the source ballad [here](https://mainlynorfolk.info/steeleye.span/songs/thewifeofusherswell.html).

Elly didn’t know what she thought about ghosts coming for supper. She had never really stopped to consider the possibility before, but here was the mistress bidding her set the table, ready the wine, cook the meat, for three dead boys. The mistress’s sons had journeyed to England to study some years past and had never returned alive, yet the mistress insisted they were coming. Elly thought the mistress was mad, for sure as cows gave milk, those boys were dead and buried.

“It’s important to her,” said Prudence, who had been with the family long enough to know when the mistress was serious. “Her boys are coming home. You know how much she loves them.”

“‘Loved’ Pru, ‘ _ loved’. _ They died.” Elly was insistent. She had only known Mrs Cooper a few turns of the moon. She seemed a serious woman, not given to frightful fancies.  _ Usually _ .

“They’re coming whether we like it or not,” said Pru. “Dead or not, she’s expecting them.”

As far as Elly was concerned, the mistress could expect them all she wanted--they would be absent all the same. There’d been funerals, she knew. Those boys were long buried, some tri-marked grave in England somewhere. They’d had the news by mail. Six days ago or more, it was. It was madness, Elly thought, to expect them home.

“But--”

Prudence cut her off. “We must act as if they mean to come. It’s what the mistress wants.” And that, Prudence meant, was that.

Prudence was the senior, so Elly went about her duty in silence. She mixed the suet with aching elbows, chopped the meat, mixed the gravy, fetched and chopped the vegetables. She placed the wine bottles on the table in order of the mistress’s preference. She was favouring the Portuguese vintage this month. They lined the table like little soldiers ready for battle. Elly made sure the labels were facing outwards; everything had to be perfect. The mistress bade them wear their Sunday dresses, which Elly thought was rather presumptuous for what would likely be an uneventful evening.

As she picked blackberries for the tart, Elly sent up a little prayer to the Lord and the sky both.  _ Let the mistress be cured of her insanities. Let the boys rest in peace. _ She flicked the fruit from the bramble branches into the little basket that hung around her neck. She slipped one into her mouth, and it was sharp, like a bite on her tongue, crying out for sugar.

That evening, the four of them gathered in the parlour. Elly sat opposite Mrs Cooper, her legs jittering with the tension. It reminded her of a funeral, that kind of anxious waiting. The curtains were drawn and they were staring into the crackling fire, letting it lull them into a calm sleepiness when at once there was a knock on the door. The clock chimed eight.

Elly screamed, and Pru scowled and whispered: “Elspeth!”, but the mistress flinched too, Elly saw. Anis stood up and went towards the door, and Elly was bitten by a sudden desire to hide. She sank lower into the soft plush chair and wished it could swallow her up. 

Anis pulled open the front door, Mrs Cooper hovering behind her. The door emitted the sound of wind and rain and something spookier besides. Even the moon had gone out, and all the stars were hiding on that night. The outdoors howled, and Elly could scarce stand it. She clutched a cushion tight. A rush of cold air ran through the house, and then Mrs Cooper gasped.

Elly felt her heart in her throat, as the missus dove forwards and wrapped her arms tight around--no, it couldn’t be? Edward, the eldest of her boys, standing there against the darkening sky, a boy of sixteen, pale and peaky but  _ alive. _ He was standing there bold as brass, allowing his mother to shower love on him. Behind him stood two more figures--and Elly could not contain the shiver that fought its way up her spine--Jacob and Caleb, standing behind their elder brother. They looked  _ thin. _

The three maids grouped together like a flock of chickens facing down a fox. Prudence raised the fire poker in a fit of bravery.

“Settle down girls,” said Mrs Cooper, as though naught were wrong with the world. Elly knew then that the grief had overtaken her. Mad with it, so desperate was she to see her boys. She’d raised them from the dead and brought them home one last time. Elly cowered behind Anis and wasn’t ashamed to admit that she was  _ scared. _

Prudence waved her poker at them, but the lads tripped into the house with nothing short of gaiety. They moved as one, graceful as only ghosts could be. They stepped into the light, and the women recoiled. Their faces were plastered with inane smiles that reached from ear to ear, as false as hen’s teeth. The boys were pale as milk, whiter than white, half-translucent in the low lighting. They bore no sign of the pox that finished them off. They were dead but not-dead, ghosts made flesh. Everything went still, and all Elly could hear was her own frantic heart.

“Boys,” said Mrs Cooper, as though this was all fine. “I’m so glad you came!” She embraced Caleb, pressed her thin lips to his glowy forehead. He had a halo of dust floating about him. Elly could see right through him, so ghostly was his body.

“Get the wine poured girls,” said Mrs Cooper, and the three of them dashed into action, the spell of horror broken.

Elly got the glasses from the cabinet and they clinked together, so bad was she shaking. Prudence had to relieve her. Anis poured the wine, all four glasses. The boys seemed incapable of holding theirs--their see-through hands could not grasp the glass, and the red liquid sloshed onto the wood floors beneath. 

“Never mind the wine,” said Mrs Cooper, patting her youngest son on the shoulder. Her hand slipped right through him, into the papery whiteness that was his body. Even she could not hide the horror that crept up on her face.

She recovered quickly. “It’s a terrible habit anyway.” She sipped her own, performatively ladylike. She had been drinking like a parched man in the desert, ever since those boys had gone away. Once or twice she had not even bothered with a glass.

“I think it’s time for supper,” said Mrs Cooper to the room at large. There was a heavy atmosphere of tension. The wind outside had stopped, and the boys indoors were giving off a cold, frightsome air. Elly could hardly think straight.

“Places girls,” Prudence clapped her hands. “Let’s get this meal served.”

They moved into the kitchen, and Elly was grateful to leave the apparitions behind. They settled into the routine, keen for something familiar, but the boys were ever on their minds. Elly knew of ghosts from the stories, and they were frightful enough, but this was something else. This was something sinister, something God himself would hate. This was real, and she could not believe her own eyes.

The pie was hot and steaming, and Elly carried it into the dining room with shaking hands. She set it on the table before Caleb, who stared ahead at something no one else could see. His eyes were bulging, the whites gone yellowish, his lips so pink and thin.

Elly squeaked and did her best to hide it. She plastered a smile on her face and handed Mrs Cooper the knife. This was her job, she reminded herself, it was her duty to serve Mrs Cooper and her family. She swallowed her fear down.

Mrs Cooper cut the pie into even quarters, and fat chunks of meat spewed out, gravy drizzling out of the sides. She served it to herself and her boys and added several spoonfuls of potatoes and fresh runner beans from the garden. 

The boys tried to pick up their cutlery, but their fingers would not work. They were relying on muscle memory, but the muscles had begun to rot. Their brains were left in their graves; no gainful thoughts had they. They would not eat, or could not eat, it made no matter. The meal went untouched, but the boys’ mouths worked in a mockery of chewing. Elly felt sick to her stomach just watching them. How could Mrs Cooper just  _ sit _ there?

The night stretched on with a kind of slow creeping horror, a fear that was circling them before devouring them whole. It grew with every glimpse through translucent skin, every cold breeze emanating from the boys, every high-pitched whistling breath. They made a mockery of life, and it showed. Elly was beyond frightened, she wanted to run from that place and never return, but Prudence bade her concentrate on the work and said all would be well.

Mrs Cooper tried to get them to take rest in the bedroom, and eventually, they sat on the beds, a trio of empty faces, vacant but for those vapid grins. Why wouldn’t they stop smiling? Elly was watching from the safety of the hallway, her fingers caught up in her dress, knotting it around her hand. The fabric was fine and it pulled somewhat, several stitches caught around her ring finger.

“Remember Caleb,” said Mrs Cooper then, drawing her youngest close to her breast as best she could. “Remember this photograph?” She tried to hand it to him but he made no movement. 

Elly could just make out the stern figures therein: the Cooper family, complete with Mr Cooper who had been dead since years past. The boys were small and babyish, so stark was the comparison with their current bodies. 

Mrs Cooper looked a world away from her self of late; in the brown-tinted photograph, her cheeks were bright and her smile was wide. Elly felt a terrible wave of sadness, watching the woman try to engage her son. The ghost that was Caleb stared onwards, unblinking. Could he even hear her?

"This is madness," Elly whispered to Anis. "This is true madness."

Anis nodded, too enrapt to speak. 

"This is a mother's love," said Prudence from behind them. Elly had not known she was there and she jumped, so nervy was she. 

"Love?" she echoed. She was thinking of many words to describe the scene that was unfolding before them, but 'love' was not one of them. 'Love' had abandoned these boys, had dragged them from their graves and given them ghostly bodies in which no goodness remained. They were not evil, but they were  _ cold _ , like caught fish awaiting gutting. She had never known such cold. And their eyes! Their eyes were watery, as empty as their coffins, milky blue like a wintry sky, like the moon on high. A silver penny for her thoughts and, oh, her thoughts were dark. 

"When will they leave?" Elly asked Prudence, her voice low, and the older woman took her hand in a display of kindness Elly had not thought her capable of. She squeezed and forced a smile. 

"Soon, I'm sure," she said, but words were little comfort against the apparitions. 

"I hope it's soon," Elly urged, and her voice came out half-strangled, something wild trying to keep the words from spilling forth.

The morn dawned slow and fitful. The sky was purple and orange, a druzy kind of texture, and bits of colour kept spurting over the horizon. Everything looked funny in the half-light, especially the boys; they seemed to shimmer in place, like a candle in the breeze, or the soft feathers of a rooster as it crowed in the new day. 

As the sun crested ever higher, the boys grew thinner and thinner, until eventually, it was only Mrs Cooper kneeling there on the dusty floor, her hands clutching at empty air. They were gone. It was over. She was sobbing, but her grief had evaporated with the dew. They were tears of resolution. Everything froze, even Elly's heart. 

"That's enough," Mrs Cooper sighed, talking to the room at large, the maids, and the places where her boys' shades had rested. "That's enough." She got to her feet, staggering like one drunk or dizzy, and cast her eyes about the place. 

"Missus?" Prudence stepped nearer. 

Mrs Cooper nodded in answer to an unasked question. "It's done girls. No more, now." 

When Elly slept it was the restless sleep of one awaiting nightmares.


End file.
